Wednesday's At 4:30
by LadyScot
Summary: Draco Malfoy thought he knew his father. He is finding out just how wrong he was. A small little drabble series.
1. Wednesday's At 4:30

This little drabble series came to me as I was checking my end of month calendar. The parts will be posted in bursts as I get them written.

I do not own anything except my story. All canon characters belong to JK Rowling. But you knew that already, didn't you?


	2. Loss

Lucius Malfoy was finally dead.

The Wizarding World's residents would soon find themselves in the throes of parties and soiree's, either by invitation or hosting. Either way, a joyful noise was about to be heard from London to Dublin. It was to be, after all, the event of the season.

For those who knew him, he could be classified in one of three ways: respected, feared, and loathed. He was a right bastard most of the time, regardless of the fact that his parents had been married at his conception, and he was right fond of reminding all who resorted to plebian name calling of that fact. Distastefully, but seething polite. Pureblood's never lost their cool after all. Right up to the end he had been dignified and unfeelingly cold.

Yes, it was about the rain secrets all over Britain. And the most important secret was going to hit close, very close, to home.


	3. Reading

The reading of the will was, in the grand scheme of things, nothing to jump for joy about. Everything to be dispersed was already noted and catalogued exactly as the parties involved had expected.

The widow Malfoy had received her jewels, title and deed to her favorite summer house and a vault full of galleons. This was to be her own spending funds, as Draco would assume responsibility for her support, as was customary in Pureblood Society. A tiny box with an envelope had been set aside for private perusal.

The Malfoy heir, however, received quite a different endowment.


	4. Appointment

Understanding can sometimes come quite quickly. You read a line of text and the next thing you know, you know. It can, though, take a bit of digging to figure out what the heck was going on.

Draco did not like having to figure things out. He was a take charge, give it to me straight kind of man. After all, when the enemy is coming knocking at your door, you want to be ready so you can hide.

Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, loved to confound everyone. Just take a look at the last line of his will:

_Draco will keep my Wednesday 4:30 appointment. _

No explanation of what that appointment was. Where it was. Or why it was to be kept. Just an arrogant demand that was expected to be obeyed. Draco would of course, obey. He was, after all, the perfect pureblood heir.


	5. Seek

There was nothing Draco hated more than having to spend more than two minutes in his father's study. With the harsh memories the room held, he avoided even venturing into the hallway that housed it, let alone actually entering. Unfortunately for him, he had inherited it along with all else his sire had piled upon his head. Er, passed along to him.

So many meetings with the Dark Lord and various and numerous Death Eaters had left an almost physical presence that was felt anytime the door was opened.

The walls inside had witnessed the planning of murders of muggles and muggleborns, the firewhiskey salute of an attack well played, as well as the random act of inflicting the Cruciatus Curse on whichever member happened to have pissed off Voldemort at that particular moment.

Still, the heir knew he would have to enter the room at least once more to attempt to locate a clue as to the mysterious appointment he was to keep, and it was already Monday evening.

Fortifying himself with a deep breath once he stood in front of the double doors, Draco pushed them open and entered for what he sincerely hoped would be the last time. Once his business here was concluded, he planned to have this room sealed, never to be opened again. At least during his lifetime.

Draco closed the doors behind him and walked purposely toward his father's credenza. Any important papers or log books would normally be placed here in one of the many magical drawers. And if the item in question was, shall we say, of a delicate nature, it was usually to be found deep within a drawer with several dangerous wards protecting it.

Draco hoped he would not find his clue in that drawer. However, if hopes were horses, he would be knee deep in shite.


	6. Find

By the time Draco found what he was looking for, in a hidden invisible drawer no less, the Malfoy heir could proudly lay claim to being on the receiving end of three unknown and painfully strong new curses, the invention of four swear words, and the ability to speak Russian.

Ok, so he did not spontaneously learn Russian, but the words spewed from his mouth were unlike any language that the witnessing house elves had ever heard. Normally, they themselves avoided the late elder Malfoy's study unless threatened with pain of death, or called for a service. That day however, the muffled noises from the room drew their attention.

One by one they crept to the doorway, until one extremely brave soul cracked it open as silently as possible, hoping this would not prove to be his last moment on earth.

When Draco cried "YES!" triumphantly, his hand thrust into the air holding a leather bound journal, he noticed he had an audience to his victory. Fifteen house elves had hunkered down at the study door. Their eyes wide, their heads lowered, they watched as their new master straightened himself to his full height before striding toward the door.

Expecting to be admonished at the least, or hexed at the worst for their peeking, they waited in tense silence. Draco stopped at the doorway, and said simply, "Please seal this room when you leave."


End file.
